


Blankets and Hot Chocolate

by as_of_no_worth



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gabe is a brat when he's sick, M/M, Old Married Couple, Really shameless tooth rotting fluff, Retirement, brush teeth after reading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-14 22:09:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9205289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/as_of_no_worth/pseuds/as_of_no_worth
Summary: Jack and Gabriel married and retired to a little house in the countryside, they still like to complain about everything, and they’re still gross and in love.Alternate title: SEP Made Us Superhumans But It Didnt Make Us Immune To The Common Cold I Want A Refund





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jellycho (Nyxokal)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyxokal/gifts).



> My secret santa was [Jellycho](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Jellycho), so I wrote some shameless fluff for their [Retirement AU](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/retirementau)! Jack and Gabriel got married, retired and left Overwatch, and adopted ten chickens and an owl.
> 
> By now it's no longer the holiday season, but please enjoy!

The chickens were asleep in their nests or laying beneath one of the heat lamps, round feathery balls with their legs tucked under them. The dim red of the lamps illuminated the roomy handmade coop as Jack roved the beam of his flashlight over each bird, counting to make sure all of his girls were accounted for before going back outside.

It was snowing, not very heavily, but with big fat flakes that stood out against the black night sky. Jack’s breath turned to puffs of cloud that glowed in the illumination of the outdoor light as the cold air stung on the way to his lungs. It was incredibly still and quiet out here. Gabriel had taken a while to get used to the lack of background noise, but Jack loved it. Having grown up in the countryside, it was good to be back in the quiet peace of isolation again.

Jack’s nose and ears were cold and red, and he sniffled as he tucked the flashlight back into his belt and lifted the snow-covered tarp covering the woodpile, and dragged a few split logs off of the pile to stack in his arms. Loose freshly-fallen snow creaked noisily under his boots as it was compressed underfoot as he headed back inside. He kicked his boots against the doorstep to knock off the snow and opened the latch for the front door using just his elbow with long-practiced ease, kicking the door shut again behind him.

The inside of their little house was blessedly warm. And it still smelled like cookies. Jack breathed in the scent and the warmth with a sigh.

“I got more wood,” he announced to the house.

He bent over to put the logs on the floor and—Oh, ow, that didn’t make his back happy. He massaged it under his coat. Bend at the knees, not the spine.

He brushed off the snow that had gathered on the shoulders and into the wrinkles of his coat and hung it up next to their assortment of coats and jackets for various times of the year, toed off his boots, and brought the logs into the living room.

It looked amazing. Gabriel always did the decorating, and as he did with every holiday, he had gone all-out. Draped lengths of garlands, a couple of wreaths, red candles in shiny glass holders, and various little figurines were carefully arranged around the room. Stockings hung above the empty fireplace. A few freshly baked sugar cookies and a glass of milk were set out for Santa. There was even a bit of mistletoe tacked to the top of the doorframe leading to the kitchen. (It had served, more than a few times, as a convenient excuse for them to kiss.) And most importantly, the tree glittering in the corner—a real tree, something Jack hadn’t had since childhood, and a big one, beautiful and surrounded by presents. Technically they had decorated the tree together, but Jack knew Gabriel went back and rearranged the ornaments later to make them perfect.

A coughing fit coming from the direction of the couch welcomed him.

They never used to get sick when they were younger. Ever. But even whatever they had gotten in the SEP couldn’t hold back the weaknesses of old age forever.

Unfortunately, Gabriel had chosen right before Christmas, of all times, to get sick. Over the counter medicine had taken care of the worst of his symptoms, and he was probably going to be mostly better by Christmas day tomorrow.

None of that made him any less insufferable.

“What took you so long?” Gabriel wanted to know, his voice thick and stuffy. “I thought you were gonna be right back.”

“I had to take care of the chickens, Gabe,” Jack grunted.

Gabriel was lying on the couch watching TV, all set up. Propped up on pillows and buried in a thick blanket, a glass of water on the coffee table beside him along with a box of tissues, and a little trash can by the foot of the couch. There were also a number of crumpled up tissues on the floor surrounding the trash can that he hadn’t bothered to pick up after he had missed. Too bad, because Jack wasn’t touching that shit.

“I’m cold,” Gabriel whined. “Hurry up.”

“I’m getting to it, Gabe,” Jack sighed. “Be patient.”

There was a mildly interesting documentary about the first manned trip to Mars on the TV, and Jack gave it about half of his attention as he began to set up the fire. The wood was a little damper than he’d have liked, but in the middle of the snow, even with a tarp over the woodpile, it was the best you could hope for.

He arranged the wood in the fireplace, crumpled some newspaper from the pile stacked nearby for this purpose, and placed it beneath the logs. He flicked on the long-nosed lighter and set it to the paper. The edges blackened and curled as they began to burn. Starting a fire was second nature to a former farmboy, Boy Scout, and trained soldier such as him.

In no time the fire was up to a healthy blaze, crackling and licking upwards to touch the top of the fireplace. Jack stood up to admire his work a moment, holding out his hands, warming himself, and watching the enchanting flames.

“I’m really cold,” Gabriel complained from behind him again. “Can you bring the couch closer?”

“Fine,” Jack sighed. Begrudgingly, he left the heavenly warmth, and circled the couch to push it to be a little closer to the fire, grunting as he put his shoulder into the weight of it, trying to not strain his back again. “There you go.”

“Thanks,” Gabriel did say this time. Jack grunted.

He shuffled into the kitchen to get something to warm himself up. He sniffled and wiped the chilly tip of his nose on the back of his hand as he put on some water in the kettle and got out a packet of hot chocolate from the cabinets, shaking it from the top as the kettle began to hiss to life. Coffee may have been his beverage of choice most of the time, but some hot chocolate after coming inside from the cold still couldn’t be beat.

“What’re you making?” Gabriel called from the living room.

“Hot chocolate.”

“I want hot chocolate,” Gabriel demanded. “I’m cold.”

“Fine.” Jack turned off the kettle to pour in more water.

Jack cleaned up a little bit from the baking he had done earlier that day as he waited for the kettle, and decided that he was entitled to eating one of the cookies that had been put away in a tin. After fixing up the hot chocolate, he came back to the living room, walking carefully as to not spill the mugs, and handed one to Gabriel.

“Move your feet,” Jack grunted as he went to sit on the other end of the couch. Gabriel curled his legs up to give him room.

Jack sat down, cradling his hot chocolate. Even just the heat from the ceramic through to his hands felt good, warming his stiff fingers. He began with a cautious sip before drinking, and the warmth went down his throat to his middle, warming him from the inside and making him sigh in contentment.

“This is the kind without marshmallows,” Gabriel said, looking into his mug and pouting a little (he always objected to calling it pouting, but he really did have the most spectacular pouts.) “You made the wrong kind.”

“That’s how I like it,” Jack said.

“But I like it with marshmallows,” Gabriel complained.

“I don’t. Tough shit.”

“But I’m sick.”

“That doesn’t make you the damn king. I made the kind I like. Now you want it or not.”

Gabriel scowled slightly, but drank from the mug as an answer.

As he sipped from his mug, Jack noticed there were more shed needles under the tree next to the presents that he’d have to vacuum up later. One of the prices to pay for having a real tree.

From the number of presents crowded under the tree, even accounting for what they had gotten in the mail from their many friends around the globe, you would never guess that only two people lived here. But, as they did every year, despite the other’s protests, they had gotten one another far too many presents.

Jack drained the rest of the hot chocolate and set the mug on one of the stained wooden coasters on the coffee table. He was still cold. He curled his legs up under himself and pulled up the end of the blanket to cover his shoulders.

“Hey!” Gabriel protested, pulling up on his end. “Get your own blanket.”

“It’s big enough for two,” Jack retorted. “Don’t be such a brat.”

“You’re letting the cold air in.”

Jack arranged the edges the blanket to seal off any gaps. “There.”

Gabriel sniffed, but seemed to accept it.

Jack settled back into the couch, arranging the blankets to be up to his neck, getting comfortable. He watched the TV, Gabriel on the other end of the couch coughing occasionally.

After a while, Gabriel nudged at Jack with his feet. “Can you sit somewhere else?” he wanted to know. “There’s not enough room. I can’t stretch out my legs.”

Jack grumbled, but it was true, Gabriel had to lie partially scrunched up. “Okay.”

Jack began to stand up, but as he got out from under the blankets, the room seemed so _cold_. It was so warm under the blankets. Changing his mind, he got on his hands and knees on the couch and began to crawl over Gabriel.

“What’re you doing? – _Hey!_ ” Gabriel whined indignantly as Jack pulled up the covers on one side.

“Move over,” he said.

“I said there’s—There’s not enough room, Jack.”

“There’s room, just roll over a little.”

“I wanted you to give me more room.”

“I’m giving you room, now you can stretch your legs.”

After some awkward shifting about, Jack was able to slot himself between the back of the couch and Gabriel’s back. He pulled the blankets back over them both and curled an arm around Gabriel’s middle, drawing him up to lie against his chest.

“You’re gonna catch my cold,” Gabriel protested. As if to accentuate his point, he coughed again.

“No I’m not,” Jack insisted, “I’ve been washing my hands. I’ll be fine.” Gabriel made a noise that indicated that he didn’t believe him, but no matter.

They settled into their positions, getting comfortable. Jack rubbed the tip of his still cold nose into the back of Gabriel’s neck. He was wonderfully warm; his skin, his entire body pressed against Jack’s. Jack breathed in his scent.

“You’re gross,” Gabriel complained.

“You write me _love songs_ , Gabriel.”

Gabriel huffed.

They lay there together in silence, watching the TV. Jack rubbed his feet against Gabriel’s under the blankets and gave a contented sigh. He was pretty sure he could lie here forever if he could.

“This is boring,” Gabriel said after a while, gesturing to the documentary they were watching with the remote in his hand.

“Yeah,” Jack agreed.

Gabriel turned the TV off and turned his head back so they could kiss, long and leisurely, in the quiet of the room and warmth of the fire as Jack idly stroked Gabriel’s stomach.

Gabriel’s warm brown eyes were looking at him when they parted, shining with the flickering light of the fire.

Jack rubbed their noses together.

“You’re gross,” Gabriel said again, but he was chuckling.

Jack needed pictures of that smile Gabriel got on his face when it was just the two of them sharing a moment. Where his eyes crinkled up in the corners and his teeth showed between his parted lips and he looked so unguarded and _open_. Gabriel smiling like that was like the sun coming out.

“Merry Christmas, babe,” Gabriel murmured.

Jack brushed their lips together and they kissed again. But it was only for a few moments before Gabriel suddenly pulled back and turned away, and coughed into his fist.

“You better not get me sick,” Jack said.

“ _You_ wanted to cuddle,” Gabriel said hoarsely before coughing again.

Jack tucked his head into the crook of Gabriel’s shoulder and watched the fire. Above it hung four empty stockings that needed to be filled. One of them was a large, quite old handknit one decorated with patterns of Christmas trees and bears that Gabriel’s grandmother had knit for him when he was just a toddler, with ‘ _Gabriel_ ’ lovingly stitched to the front. The one for Jack used to be a regular storebought one, until the fact that they didn’t match bothered Gabriel too much and he had knitted Jack one that could go with his. But now they had one for the chickens and one for the owl and Gabriel had given up on getting them all to look like a set.

“We should go to bed,” Gabriel said after a while.

“Yeah,” Jack agreed. He rubbed his thumb in little circles over Gabriel’s stomach.

“Or Santa won’t come.”

“Yeah. And you need rest.”

Neither of them made a move to get up.

The fire quietly crackled to itself. Jack didn’t know what it was about fires that could make you stare into them forever. Something about the dances of the flickering flames, the cracks and pops and fizzles, the occasional shifting of wood as it slowly turned black and burned down to coals, you could get lost in.

Gabriel’s breathing gradually slowed, and after a while he began to snore a little. Jack propped himself up on an elbow to reach for the cord for the lamp on the end table before settling back down next to his husband, snaking an arm back around the other’s middle.

The fire was beginning to burn low by now, but Jack didn’t want to get up to tend to it. He didn’t want to risk waking Gabriel, for one thing, and he didn’t want to have to leave the warmth and ruin this moment.

So instead he kept lying there feeling the breathing of Gabriel’s chest pressed against his and the rumbles of his snores, listening to them and the sounds of the fire. In the darkness, the dwindling fire seemed bright again, and the snowfall outside the dark windows was growing visible. Jack’s eyes were growing heavy, and finally he gave in and closed them.

He must have drifted off into a doze because he suddenly jerked awake. The fire was down to just glowing embers, and Gabriel was still fast asleep. As carefully as he could, Jack extricated himself from Gabriel, put out the remains of the fire, and gently carried his husband in his arms to the bedroom. After all, Santa had to come.


End file.
